Mercado das Madrugadas

On an unlikely but very possible or even inevitable day, everyone will decide not to leave their homes. The world will stop and go on strike. On that day, there will be time to think, to breathe, to cry copiously for all the atrocities committed solely because of excess adrenaline, testosterone, stupidity or evil geopolitical strategy. Then, and only for those who can, some will take a nap.

Many others will take a bath. Many will wipe the snot from their shirts and tidy up the few clothes they have on their bodies. We will go out again. We will link arms with a neighbour, a stranger, a mother, a daughter. With no other apparent reason than ‘I thought it would never happen!’, we will walk down every avenue and arrive at this square. The square that is a school, that is an exchange, that is a place for all classes and all possibilities. We will exchange impressions. We will exchange appetisers. We will exchange proposals for the next 50 years of April. We will occupy the streets, which is all we need to transform them. And without realising it, from afar we will hear that sound of footsteps dragging on the gravel, that dark rhythm that everyone knows. The step becomes a beat, the song dissolves into a demonstration. The demonstration breaks into a march. The march dissolves into the air but does not fade away. Its vibration remains in the air and in the streets and launches the motto back into the music! Night will fall.

We invite you to join us at sunset for a first minute of silence as we breathe in this memorable idea of a revolution preceded by a global strike.